


Gleaning the Fields

by Rubynye



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Conversations, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Gen, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: Mozzie and June, chatting.
Relationships: June Ellington & Mozzie
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9
Collections: Purimgifts 2021





	Gleaning the Fields

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elfwreck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwreck/gifts).



> Written for Elfwreck in the Purimgifts 2021 Exchange!

“I don’t mean to do him a disservice,” June says, half a laugh. “There was nothing _wrong_ with Chester. He was solid and dependable. Off the rack. My parents liked him. But then there was Byron.”

Mozzie nods. “Quite a decision, between two swains,” he says, watching June’s reminiscent smile as he takes another sip of this lovely Chenin Blanc. “So what kept you from going west, young woman?”

“Byron taught me to pick pockets.” Now her smile shines, her eyes sparkle with recalled excitement, and he can see the girl she was glimmering through the lady she is now. “He stood behind me, laid his arm along mine, his hand over mine to show me precisely how to slip my fingers in.” Mozzie can see it, can’t help but grin at the thought. “The first time the bell didn’t ring I almost stopped breathing. But I insisted on doing it again and again. It wasn’t until the third time —“ her eyes are full of the memory now, and Mozzie just listens and waits. “I bounced around and kissed him, and I knew this was the man I was going to marry.” 

“The gift of knowledge is truly priceless.” Mozzie murmurs. June blinks, and sees him again, and inclines her head in her turn. Mozzie looks down into the clear pale gold of his wine, and decides to let out a little truth. Neal’s ridiculous new turn must be rubbing off on him. “I admit, I wish I’d had such a mentor.”

“Are you self taught?” June asks, her eyes keen as she sips. 

Mozzie nods briefly. “The vile durance of seventh grade brought at least one useful discovery.” And it’s his turn to look into the past for a moment. “One day when Brent Ashcroft stuffed me into my locker I tried to grapple him, but in failing and flailing I gripped the first solid thing my hand touched, and I found in the dimness I held his wallet. So I took the opportunity to extract fair recompense for my bruised dignity, let myself out, and dropped the wallet in the third floor boy’s bathroom.”

June nods, her mouth serious but her eyes alight. “Byron started… in a similar way, and he wasn’t much older than you. Where did you go from there?”

“To my best and only friend, the library.” June smiles wide, and Mozzie settles in and smiles back. “It’s astonishing, the things one can find with a little time to look. The first time I lifted a wallet on purpose I had an attack of conscience, but then I told myself I was merely gleaning the fields of the wealthy scions who stood atop my school’s social pyramid.” 

June’s eyes crinkle at the edges and sparkle over her wine, and she raises her glass. “To gleaning the fields!” 

“L’chaim!” Mozzie clinks glasses, and considers asking June about how she used her newly acquired talents, in her early days with Byron.

But in his moment’s pause she gets there first. “So, were you Neal’s teacher?”

“No, he was already light of fingers and bright of smile when I met him.” Mozzie thinks a moment of the strange places knowing Neal has taken him, including his friendship with bright-eyed Mrs. Suit, including June’s parlor this fine morning. “Though I did take the opportunity to suggest a few refinements to his form.”

June smiles at that. “He’s a remarkable young man,” she says, an invitation or a conclusion as he chooses, and there’s still a little too much tangled up in the subject of Neal Caffrey right now, so Mozzie simply nods agreement.

“Yes, he certainly is,” he murmurs, just as they hear the door pulled open slowly enough to creak, and a deliberate footstep, two three. “And I believe the man himself approaches,” just before the door opens. In strolls Neal, dapper and charming as ever, and despite any misgivings Mozzie smiles to see him.

* * *


End file.
